


Everyman Will Do

by AnamaryArmygram



Series: Drabble Switch! [14]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, London, Monuments & Memorials, Quadruple Drabble, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnamaryArmygram/pseuds/AnamaryArmygram
Summary: In Trafalgar Square, the guys bicker over an innocent's half-baked ideas about tradecraft.





	

* * *

Napoleon glanced at his watch. 11:16. “I hate letting an amateur handle this,” he said.

Illya, who had been affecting a blond mustache and a walking stick since they'd arrived in London, shook his head. “It's his information: he sets the terms.”

“And his terms are that he gets to play spy.”

“At least he's got good instincts. Midday, public place, many passers-by…”

Napoleon squinted in the sunlight. “…dark glasses everywhere, tourists with cameras, next to a busy street…”

“I didn't say he was well _trained_.”

“And those instructions. So verbose, and yet so vague. 'Go to the southeast corner of Nelson's Column. I'll stick it in the hollow by the foot. I should be gone by eleven.'” Napoleon snorted. “ _Which_ foot? I could have said more in half the words.”

Illya gestured to the bronze bas-relief of the Battle of Trafalgar that adorned the south side of the column's plinth. “Do you know why history remembers the phrase as 'England _expects_ that every man will do his duty'?”

“No, why?”

“Nelson was going to say _confides_ until someone told him _expects_ was in the codebook.” Illya smiled. “It could be communicated in one hoist of the flags instead of eight, shortening the whole message by more than a third.”

“What's the moral of this story?”

“Even a great man can miss a good idea.”

They split up around one of the bronze lions that surrounded the column, each searching one of the hollows formed by its haunches and rear paws.

Nothing.

“Either he failed us…” said Illya.

“…or THRUSH beat us to it. Cheer up, _tovarisch_. He translated those reports himself – maybe they were just as unclear as our instructions.” Napoleon sighed, his gaze idly drifting toward the column. “Which foot, indeed.”

Illya's eyes brightened. “Look – in the corner of the bas-relief. That sailor's bare foot, with a recessed spot beside it.” Before his partner could react, he'd clambered up the base of the plinth and probed the dark recess with his walking stick. A folded packet tumbled out. One side was dotted with adhesive putty; the other, blackened for camouflage.

“You know,” said Napoleon, once the packet was safely secreted in Illya's coat pocket, “I thought of a better moral for your story.”

“What's that?”

Napoleon smirked. “Even a little man can _have_ a good idea.”

Sigh. “Isn't that what I've been trying to tell you all along?”

**Author's Note:**

> The photo is from Wikimedia Commons and was taken by Eluveitie.


End file.
